break me…

Today at church I wanted to crawl under my chair and hide from the sermon.  I realize not everyone is a church goer but stay with me.  Craig, our preacher, was talking about praying to the Lord asking him to break you.  The idea is to take you to your limit and then go beyond what you can handle on your own.  Why?  Why would anyone ask for this? Well, so you can depend on God is the ultimate reason.  I was sitting there thinking, no way would I ever in a million years ask God to break me.


About 20 years ago when Craig Groeschel started up Life Church someone he respected told him that along the way in building his ministry, God would break him.  The first year was rough trying to get a new church up and running.  Things go awry in any new endeavor, right?  Everytime Craig would encounter another setback he would call his friend and ask if he was broken yet.  His friend finally told him; there would be no question when he reached that point.  He would know it.  Finally, that time came.  Pastor Craig broke.  His story, it isn’t mine to tell, but you can access the sermon on the church’s website ( under watch on demand.  So here is the kicker, and why I’m sharing it with you tonight…

When we are breaking. We fight it.  We try to keep it together. We keep on keeping on until we can’t anymore.  We finally reach that moment and break.

I felt and understood how God has already broken me.  As I sat in my chair (not under it), tears came along with the memories of the last year.  Every time some new drama would erupt I would tell myself, “I got this.” The women in my family are a lot like Scarlett O’Hara in a crisis.  We deal well. By August when things were settling down in my world, I was breathing easier.  Then the depression came.  The calm after the storm wasn’t the end.  I finally broke.  I could not longer carry the memories, guilt and shame of everything in the recent past. One night after crying for most of it, I gave up trying to deal.  I lay my burdens at the Lord’s feet.  Although November and December were the hardest ones I’ve ever known, I made it through because after giving my worries to God and didn’t take them back. For once, I didn’t take them back.  I relied on something bigger than myself. I trusted in someone bigger than anything I can comprehend. God saved me, not me.  He saved me.

I get the prayer. The idea of it scares me.  I’ve been broken.  I’m still mending, trusting and relying on someone bigger than me. He’s got this.


daisies, coffee and chocolate,


where there is fire…

They say life is stranger than fiction. I concur.

When last I wrote my kids and I were vacationing in the Pacific Northwest and having a great time. We went to the market in Seattle, saw the country side in and around Bellingham, spent much-needed time catching up with family and even managed to get in some whale watching. It was one of the best and dare I say most comfortable vacations I’ve ever been on.

Thank you to my brother and sis-in-law for being the best hosts ever!

Everything was lovely until 12:03 am on 7/7/15. I received a phone call…my home was on fire. I was in shock and a little disbelieving. I wanted confirmation. It didn’t seem possible that my beloved family home was burning to the ground and I was in Washington helpless to do anything about it. A video was taken on a phone and sent to me. I could see the second story was outlined clearly by the tall flames shooting out from the roof. I woke my brother up and shortly the rest of the house was up too. We were helpless to do anything. The fire fighters were working as best they could. I was later told the house was gone in minutes. While I stood in my brothers living room feeling all was lost I remembered that my God had this. So, I took just a minute and stepped out on the deck to pray. I thanked God that my family was safe. We were all safe in Washington. It was all I could think to say.

The Farm. Winter 2012.

The Farm. Winter 2012.

This farm house was more than just a place to live. It was a place of refuge in my times of trouble. It represented the love of family, safety and security.  I healed wounds there more than once. The Farm served as my family’s base. Imagine the Kennedy’s at their Hyannis Port compound, now move it about 2,300 miles to the middle of nowhere Oklahoma and drop it smack dab in the middle of sixty acres, take away the wealth and the ocean and you have the Davis Farm. Ok, drop the glamor too. But seriously, my memories and my roots run deep here.  Dad ran cattle on the land until he retired from farming long after he had retired from a career in Plant Management. Mom despite working full-time up until her retirement,  still found time to cooked Sunday dinners every week.  The dining room sported a huge table that could get all the adults (9) around it for dinner and a smaller able in the “little dining” room for the kids. My Nanny taught me to make her chicken and dumplings’ in the kitchen. My nephew who is now 22 years old came home from the hospital as a new-born to The Farm. Christmas was here every year along with the other major holidays. There were Memorial Day BBQ’s, Family Reunions, Wedding Receptions, Halloween parties and lots of birthday parties. I have a big family and with big families comes a lot of celebrating. Lots of food and sitting around after dinner talking. I was so glad when all the grandkids were officially old enough to do the dishes after dinner. That blessed event got me and my sis-in-law off the hook. Dishes for 13 people, no thank you. LOL.  The Farm is responsible for “afancyfarmgirl”. It’s part of my identity.

I loved this place. I miss it. It feels like a part of me is gone. Part of my history is gone.

The Farm established 1992

The Farm established 1992

I don’t miss my stuff. Not really. Stuff is just stuff. It can be replaced. I have a short list of “things” I miss.

1. My Gund Teddy bear Xavier. I’ve had him since I was 11.

2. My first Bible that Dad and Mom gave me. I had recently started carrying it to church again. Dad inscribed it with the following, “May His light burn bright in your life.” Christmas 1983

3. My children’s pictures. Once upon a time an avid scrapbooker. I did crazy elaborate scrapbook pages for my kids documenting their every move when they were small. Those books represent hours and hours of my life. So many memories.

Like I said it’s a short list.

Life goes on. WE are still here. I have what’s most important, MY FAMILY. Without them The Farm would have never held my heart the way it did.

My Family July 2015

My Family July 2015

There’s always something to be thankful for. Always.

Coffee, Daisies and Chocolates,